


Jealousy, Thy Name

by Gothic_Lolita



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom Slade Wilson, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pain Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Sub Bruce, Sub Bruce Wayne, Verbal Humiliation, pain slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothic_Lolita/pseuds/Gothic_Lolita
Summary: Clark Kent has a crush on Bruce.So naturally, it's Slade's job to mark his property as his and remind Bruce who he belongs to.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Slade Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 97





	Jealousy, Thy Name

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how this happened. One second I was reading some Tim/Slade trash, accidentally ended up on the Bruce/Slade tag, and then I blacked out and wrote this entire thing in an hour at 3 am. It's not beta'd and I haven't finished a fic in months, and yet somehow the ship I'm only barely interested in gets me writing rather than my hundred drafts.
> 
> Oh well. Enjoy.

“Boy Scout has a crush on you.”

Bruce’s fingers paused over the keyboard he’d been typing on. Slade knew that Bruce had been aware of his presence since he slipped into the cave. Slade was good, but Bruce was better. They both knew that. It was just a waiting game they’d been playing, Bruce continuing his work and waiting for Slade to decide what he wanted to do.

And now that Slade had picked, it was Bruce’s moves. Slade couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine that quiet, passive gaze. Deciding how to respond. Slade knew better than to assume Bruce didn’t know about Clark Kent’s crush on him. Bruce was too acutely aware of his surroundings and playing dumb would only insult his intelligence to Slade. It was a game of cat and mouse.

“And what about it?” Bruce finally asked, closing the program on his computer. 

Slade grinned, leaning against the deck so he could see Bruce’s face as it watched the screen. “You gonna do something about it?”

“What do you suggest I do?” Bruce sighed, typing out something. “Confrontation will lead to tension on the team and it’s the last thing I need.”

Slade shrugged. “You could tell him you’re not into guys.”

Bruce outright snorted at that. Making Batman laugh was forever a prize Slade held above the Joker’s head as a most treasured trophy.

“Or you could tell him the truth and say you’re not into other bottoms,” Slade continued. “You know the way Kent looks at you, he’s dying to get fucking railed into next week.”

“Slade.”

Slade ignored him. “Probably has a praise kink. Damn Boy Scout fucking melts when you tell him he does a good job. Eyes glazed over and everything. I’d bet on a daddy kink in him too.”

“ _Slade_.”

“Guess you two do have something in common after all.” Slade’s grin was wicked and filthy.

“ _Slade_!” Bruce slammed the laptop shut and turned his chair to face Slade, expression filled with a look that was ready to give Slade an earful about wasting Bruce’s time with pointless tangents.

Slade had heard it before.

As Bruce turned, Slade caught him by the throat, a hand wrapping around that delicate billionaire skin. Bruce didn’t quite freeze, but he did still his movements, staring up at Slade with those crystal blue eyes. 

It was the little things. Like Bruce’s pulse quickening against Slade’s fingers, then calming back down as Bruce regained that precious control. Cat and mouse. Predator and prey.

“Course,” Slade continued, ignoring Bruce’s outburst, “Doubt he’s as much as a painslut as you are. Hard to be, when bullets shatter on your skin. You on the other hand-” Slade tightened his grip just enough to have Bruce struggling for breath- “beg for just a chance to bruise.”

Bruce’s eyes slipped shut, enjoying a moment of pure bliss under the submission. “I still don’t see your point. It doesn’t change anything between us. I’m not interested in Kent and I sure as hell wouldn’t fuck him.”

“I’d let you,” Slade mused.

“What?” Bruce’s eyes flicked back open. 

Slade’s thumb stroked Bruce’s neck and released his grip a bit. “I’d let you fuck him. I don’t care who you drag into bed. As long as you remember none of them can make you cry like I can.”

Bruce squinted. “Do you want me to fuck him?” It was a rhetorical question with a dash of sardonic humor that truly reminded Slade why Bruce was fun to have around for things besides fucking.

“It’d be fun to watch,” Slade said. 

“Kent would not let you watch me fuck him,” Bruce made a face.

“Which is exactly why he doesn’t get to have you.” Slade pulled Bruce up by his throat, forcing Bruce to stand in front of him. “No fun in letting a toy put on a show if you can’t watch.”

Bruce’s breathing was a touch on the ragged side. He was so easy to push into subspace, Slade barely had to try anymore.

“You’d fuck him if I told you to.”

“I would _not_.”

Slade squeezed to cut off air this time. “You fucking would. Because you do what I fucking tell you to because it’s what you’re good for. Getting my dick wet and entertaining me.”

Bruce was hard. His hands fidgeted at his sides, fighting the urge to grab Slade’s arm. He’d tried that all of once, and Slade had fucked him until Bruce was bleeding and screaming his lungs out.

It had been a fun night.

“I’m not gonna make you fuck him,” Slade said, just to quell that small part of Bruce’s brain that was always thinking and moving. “I am going to mark you though.” Slade leaned in close. “You have a League meeting in two hours. And I’m going to spend those two hours fucking you raw and making you reek of me so Kent knows to fucking stay in his lane.”

Bruce could only make a soft choking sound.

  
  


Slade made good on his promises. He always did.

It had been an hour and Bruce had come once. Slade had really lost count of how many times he had personally come, but it didn’t matter. 

“Daddy,” Bruce’s throat was raw. Whether from the screaming or from Slade fucking it early, Slade couldn’t say. “Daddy please.”

Slade grabbed a handful of hair and forced Bruce’s head down, into the pavement of the cave. He loved seeing Bruce’s face when he fucked him, but there was something animalistic and raw about fucking Bruce face down and ass up on the floor of the batcave. 

With a small adjustment, Slade brought his leg around and ground his boot on Bruce’s face, using it as a foothold to get a deeper angle. “You say something, slut?”

Bruce choked on a moan. His hands were forced behind his back with a pair of his own handcuffs. “Daddy-” His attempts at English didn’t fit well with a constant stream of moans.

“If you’ve got something to say you better fucking say it,” Slade warned, “or I’ll find a better use for that mouth.”

Bruce mewled and tried to gain some semblance of control, as Slade fucked him at a brutal place. “Please,” he gasped, “please let me come.”

Slade slapped his ass so hard it left a glowing handprint and Bruce shouted. “How the fuck do you address me?”

“ _Daddy_!” It got drawn out into a moan. “Daddy please, I need to come.”

Slade reached a hand down to run his fingers over Bruce’s cock. “But you already came. I don’t need a greedy fucking whore on my hands.” Slade slid his fingers up and down Bruce’s cock, a feathered touch that made him squirm even more. His fingers came to wrap around Bruce’s balls. 

Bruce had a moment to realize what Slade was about to do and tried to jerk away. “No, please-”

Slade squeezed down, as hard as he could without causing any type of real damage.

It was like Bruce had been electrocuted. His entire body seized and jerked, and he didn’t even have it in him to scream. He just made a choking, gasping noise of pain. The beautiful feeling of Bruce clenching down from the pain made Slade groan, coming with hard, long strokes against Bruce’s sore prostate. “Good fucking slut,” Slade murmured. “You were fucking made for pain, you know that? Makes you look so fucking pretty.”

After he’d ridden out his orgasm, Slade pulled out and flipped Bruce over. To Bruce’s credit, he was still at half-mast. Which was really just a proof of how much he liked the pain.

Bruce’s eyes were too unfocused to look at Slade. He was whimpering with every breath, his body shaking. 

“You still wanna come?” Slade didn’t even sound winded. 

“Please,” Bruce breathed. His cock twitched to life.

Slade rolled his eyes. He pulled Bruce’s chair over and sat down. “Suck me off, and you can get off on my leg.”

Bruce struggled back to his knees, and let Slade guide his mouth over with a hand in his hair. Slade guided his cock into Bruce’s mouth and it was like a fucking fleshlight, just fucking pulling him up and down without an ounce of resistance. 

It took Bruce a second to get into the right position, to hump Slade’s leg, but he figured it out. Slade couldn’t imagine it felt too good, his pants were made of rough kevlar armor that dragged with a jagged texture. It was asking for rug burn and Slade could see the pain in Bruce’s eyes. He still let out those cute little whimpers and his hips didn’t slow down, chasing for an orgasm. 

“See?” Slade leaned back. “This is what you’re fucking made for. Kent thinks you could pin him against a wall and make him beg. As if you don’t fucking crumble just for the chance of getting beaten and fucked until you can’t take it anymore.”

Bruce mewled, staring up at Slade with eyes that were wet with tears. 

“You were built and bred to be a fucking cocksleeve,” Slade continued. “You have no better place than on your fucking knees, ruining yourself for another man.”

Bruce’s hips sped up. He was humping like a fucking animal in heat, whining with tears starting to fall. He was so close. Slade just had to time it right and keep talking. 

“One of these days, I’ve gotta get you on film.” Slade just kept pulling Bruce up and down his cock. “Just so I can send it to Kent and he can see how quick you’ll spread your legs just so I can beat your ass raw.” 

Bruce was shaking and his throat started getting tighter.

“Maybe if you’re a good fuckhole, I’ll send it to the whole League. Let all of them know that you should spend those boring ass meetings you complain about between someone’s legs, actually being of fucking use for once.” With a hard pull of Bruce’s hair, Slade went in for the kill. “You’re _my_ fucking worthless hole who’s not good for anything but breaking.”

Bruce’s moan would’ve been a scream if he didn’t have a cock down his throat. As soon as his hips arched with a telltale of his orgasm, Slade pulled back and kicked as hard as he could, pulling out of Bruce’s throat and letting him fall to the ground in pained pleasure.

Bruce cried, hips still trying to fuck the air even as his legs instinctively closed from the pain. Slade held them open by putting a boot down on Bruce’s cock and balls, crushing them with a grinding heel. It had Bruce screaming, head thrown back. 

His hips still kept moving as he went through his orgasm, fucking up into Slade’s crushing shoe. 

“Thank you,” Bruce rasped through moans. “Thank you, daddy.”

It took a good thirty seconds before Bruce stopped thrashing and finally calmed down. He was still whimpering and crying though. It was a fucking sight.

Slade stood up, taking his foot off of Bruce’s crotch. He contemplated, then changed his mind. He kicked Bruce again, straight for the crotch and with more force.

Bruce cried out and curled in on himself, whimpering with fresh tears on his face. “No more daddy, please. It hurts.”

“Yeah, and you like it that way.” Slade tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up. The noise seemed to pull Bruce out of his crying pain.

“You didn’t get off,” Bruce’s words were slurred and distant.

Slade chuckled. “Yeah, not everyone is a desperate fucking bitch in heat who needs an orgasm just to breathe.” He crouched down, taking the handcuffs off of Bruce. “Some of us have composure.” 

In a moment of softness, Slade pushed Bruce’s hair out of his face. “You need anything? Water, a Gatorade?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce rasped. He was still in the afterglow and yet managed to be the typical stoic cunt.

Slade rolled his eyes and picked Bruce up bridal style. “Come on, let’s clean your sorry ass up.”

“I thought you wanted me to smell like you,” Bruce mumbled.

“I didn’t say shower.” Slade set Bruce down on the cot in the back of the cave, for when Bruce pulled all-nighters. “You’re gonna smell like me but you’re not gonna be covered in come, that’s just rude.”

Bruce laughed. It was a nice sound.

Slade grabbed a towel and got it wet with a water bottle. He carefully wiped Bruce down, focusing on his ass first, then his thighs and back. He moved to the front, going across Bruce’s stomach. Slade wrapped the towel around Bruce’s dick and cleaned with a bit too tight of a grip, forcing the fibers to rub his already raw dick.

“Slade!” Bruce tried to pull away from the pain and overstimulation, whining in pain.

Slade slapped him hard around the face and squeezed his dick tighter. “What’s my fucking name?”

“Daddy,” Bruce whimpered, “daddy please, too much.” 

Slade smirked and pulled the towel away. “I’m only stopping because you need to be at that meeting in a half an hour. You’re getting a break, but we’re not done for the night. When you get back I’m going to fuck you until you pass out.” They both knew it wasn’t even a promise, it was just a matter of fact. Slade stood up. “I suggest you get dressed. Maybe put on some of that pretty boy makeup so you don’t look so fucked raw.”

Bruce scowled at him but nodded. “You staying here?”

Slade shrugged. “Got nowhere else to be.”

“You better have food waiting for me when I get back.” Bruce sat up and started looking for his clothes. 

“Sure thing, your highness. Would you prefer caviar or fillet mignon?”

Bruce cast him a wary look. “Pizza. And if you make it Hawaiian again you’re not fucking me for a week.”

Slade snorted. “Like you get to decide that.” He stretched. “Have fun at your meeting. Describe to me the look on Kent’s face when he realizes you smell like me. I wanna know what he looks like when his world crumbles.”

“You’re awful,” Bruce said.

Slade smiled, but it was all teeth and no humor. “I know, it’s your favorite thing about me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I still really want to write Tim/Slade, a proper longer fic with the right amount of porn and angst. I don't know if that's what this was supposed to be, but if you want me to write Tim/Slade you should yell at me to in the comments, it motivates me.


End file.
